


Luck

by electric016



Category: Zero Escape (Video Games), Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Pre-VLR, Spoilers, Zecret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electric016/pseuds/electric016
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Zecret Santa 2014. </p>
<p>Junpei makes the best of Christmas 2029 in a government quarantine bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck

**Author's Note:**

> This was my Zecret Santa gift for Sakbeh on tumblr who requested "Anything with Junpei." So this is my something with Junpei! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday :)

**December 25, 2029**

It seemed that Junpei was one of the first people up that morning. It was hardly surprising as they’d decided to have a day off, since it was Christmas, and most of the inhabitants would want the morning to either sleep in or be alone for a little while. The holidays were proving to be a hard time for everyone.

“Merry Christmas, Junpei!” Sheryl greeted him. She was the only other person in the mess hall, and sat nursing a cup of coffee and reading a beat up paperback novel. 

“Merry Christmas!” He greeted in return.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Junpei responded with a smile, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. He was, of course, lying. That night he’d been haunted by the nonary game and had woken with the vivid image of the remains of the man in Snake’s clothing imprinted on his mind’s eye.

Sheryl took the lie with a smile and no questions. No one in the Bunker really slept well anymore - not after what they’d all lived through. But they all pretended that they did. Dark circles under eyes were blamed on a bunkmate’s snoring. Frequent yawning was put down to simply staying up too late.

That afternoon those that were feeling up to celebrating gathered in the mess hall. About ten showed up in total. There was Sheryl and her son, Ben. There was Mike, an ex-mechanic (whose family was across the country at the time of the blasts, so he coped by believing they were all still alive). There was girl named Gwen who was about Junpei’s age and had been pursuing a degree in sustainable development) and Matt (who’d been Junpei’s roommate since they’d moved into the Bunker and vacillated between being sullen and being angry). Today he seemed to be leaning towards angry, his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.  The others Junpei knew by face, but couldn’t remember their names. Sometimes English names just wouldn’t stick in his mind.

As Junpei learned that year: some people didn’t stop celebrating Christmas even for the end of the world. The gloominess of that morning and the preceding days had vanished and had been replaced with a warm air of determined cheeriness.

Sheryl strung Christmas lights they’d rescued from the surface around the mess hall, and, after it had cleared a bio check, they’d allowed a small fir tree to be brought in.

“I’ve never had a Christmas tree before.” Junpei confessed as he helped string light and paper chains around the branches.

“What? Really?” Ben asked in surprise.

Junpei shook his head. “Nope, never. Christmas isn’t really a big deal in Japan. I usually just went to my friends’ parties.”

“Well I think that means Junpei gets to put the star on top.” Mike suggested.

“Is that important?”

“Well, not really. My kids would always fight over who got to do it when they were little,” Mike responded, “but I don’t think it’s especially important.” He handed the ornament to Junpei. “Here you are.”

He held it in his hands —a five-pointed star. It felt important to Junpei.

When it was time, everyone gathered around to watch Junpei place the star at the top of the tree. He then turned to face the onlookers and said with an ear-to-ear grin, “I guess the party can  _star_ t now.”

There was a collective groan from the rest of the group.

“I did not survive the apocalypse for this.” Mike said, slapping his hand on Junpei’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you a plate. And no more puns.”

They’d spent the afternoon preparing a meal that could at least resemble a Christmas dinner. The potatoes were powdered, and the vegetables were the same as they ate everyday. They didn’t have a turkey, but they did have some cured meats they’d been saving for a special occasion, and as Mike said, he’d happily take any excuse to eat bacon.

Gwen, being the practical and proactive type, had taken it upon herself to make sure that dinner was portioned out to those not in attendance and delivered to their rooms. The remaining food was set out on the table in an attempt to make it look less like a cafeteria feast and more like a home cooked meal.

Alcohol was usually prohibited in the Bunker, the idea being that they didn’t need the few remaining humans to have the means to drink themselves to death. But for Christmas, a bottle of scotch and a few bottles of wine had been allowed. In addition, someone had found a few bottles of cola that Ben had been eyeing all afternoon. Not that Junpei could blame him. He was hoping for a glass, too.

They sat around the mess hall table, having portioned out the meal.

Mike stood glass in hand. “Now, this being a government facility and all, maybe a prayer isn’t the most PC way to start a meal. So instead, I’m going to opt for a few words and a moment of silence.” He paused for a moment before starting again. “I think I can say with confidence that this has been a really rough year.”

“Understatement of the century,” Sheryl muttered.

“And I could go on about how I couldn’t think of a better group to survive the end of the world with, but I won’t, because you don’t want to hear it, and we all know it’s not entirely true. There are a lot of people we wish were with us tonight that aren’t here right now. So instead, here’s to making the best of the worst circumstances, and to a bit more luck in the future.”

Junpei’s hand went to the picture in his pocket. It was Christmas, so naturally Akane and Santa had been on his mind a lot more lately. But Mike’s hope for luck brought with it a powerful memory.  _You know what I hate most in the world? I got four things: Hope, Faith, Love, and Luck._

At the time, Junpei had had a hard time understanding what could make a person feel that way, but after this last year, he was starting to wonder if there wasn’t something to Santa’s pessimism. Ever since the end of the nonary game, he’d taken those words to heart. He’d maintained hope for the future, faith in humanity, and love for Akane. But still he had thought that luck had evaded him. That was until he realized that he  _was_  one of the lucky ones. He was alive.

It was that realization that had begun to skew his view on things. Sure  _he’d_ survived, but what about everyone else? There were those he knew for certain were dead, and the ones he’d lie awake wondering about: Clover, Snake, Seven, Lotus and her girls, Santa. Akane. What good was luck if it only benefitted him?

“You alright there, Junpei?” Gwen asked him with a kind smile, bringing him back to reality. They’d started dinner.

“Yeah,” he said smiling at her.

“Potatoes?”

“Yes please.”

After dinner, Mike declared he was going to teach Junpei, Matt, and Gwen how to drink scotch. The three younger people grimaced at each other, but each gamely had a glass.

It wasn’t long after that Gwen disappeared to the sleeping quarters, only to return shortly after holding a guitar.

“Christmas music, anyone?” She asked.

Junpei didn’t know the English lyrics to a lot of the songs, but he was happy to sing a long loudly in Japanese while everyone else sang in English.

The mood was warmer that it had been in a long time. Even Matt seemed somewhat happy.

It was easy, when Junpei was surrounded by this little community, to forget how awful things were. It was easy to forget when they turned off the florescent lights and allowed the mess hall to be lit by the warm glow of christmas lights, that if you were to go outside, there would be no starlight, moonlight, or sunlight. It was easy to forget, when they all stood around singing “Silent Night,” just how quiet the world was these days.   

Hope, faith, love, and luck. Maybe Santa was right. Maybe it was all a load of bullshit that just lead to heartbreak and disappointment. But letting himself believe that felt like giving in.

Given the choice between believing in a future of pessimism, and one of optimism and possible disappoint, he’d take his chances with optimism. He was feeling pretty lucky.


End file.
